


loved the sorrows of your changing face

by arrows (orphan_account)



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-27 15:04:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/663379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/arrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>" How many loved your moments of glad grace,<br/>And loved your beauty with love false or true;<br/>But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,<br/>And loved the sorrows of your changing face."<br/>("When You are Old" by W.B. Yeats)</p>
            </blockquote>





	loved the sorrows of your changing face

**Author's Note:**

> The stories are not exactly in order: The first part is when she's still working with the Red Room, the second is around the events of Iron Man 2 and about 5 years after the start of the third, the third starts back in between the first two and ends sometime in the future, and the last part is also future. I kinda skipped over the events in the Avengers, but they would be somewhere in the middle of 3. And I may have exaggerated Tony's feelings a bit, but we can ignore that right? -hides-  
> Enjoy, and comment if you like it, please! All characters are (c) Marvel.  
> (Also, I typed this on a Kindle, so I apologize for any mistakes and /i'll try to go back and fix them tomorrow.)

_How many loved your moments of glad grace,_

She put on the biggest smile she could and walked out onto the dance floor. She could feel that her target was here, a nameless CEO she was sent to dispose of. She didn't ask why, she never did. She was doing her duty for her country, for the Red Room, that was all the reason given and all she needed. 

She found him at the bar (good, easier to get a drunk target) and glided over to him. Her steps were light and graceful, her dress concealed two guns and a knife, as well as some tranquilizer darts strapped to her leg.

In her most seductive voice, she said hello to him and introduced herself as Natalia Alianovna. She bought him a few drinks, acted her part and stalled until it was dark, and asked him if he'd like to get out of the crowded party. He said yes and kissed her roughly, completely drunk and stupid and naive, murmuring a false "I love you". And of course he did, or thought he did, her disguise was any man's dream, her smile shining bright though she secretly despised everyone in the room. 

The man was dead before the night was over, and there was no evidence that would point to her. 

_And loved your beauty with love false or true;_

Tony Stark, Genius, billionaire, etc., etc. Smarter than the rest, sure, but for the most part, nothing she hadn't seen before. A rich guy trying to fuck everyone he sees, not exactly an original concept. Wearing the face of Natalie Rushman, she would've seduced him easily had that been her goal. But no, she was just there to keep an eye on things, gather information.

She could read his feelings like a book, no matter how hard he tried to conceal them (it was what she was trained for, after all.) Lust. Tony Stark didn't feel love, she wasn't even sure he was capable of it, all he wanted from her or any other woman was sex. Especially from her, she was beautiful, could see him thinking it. 

When he discovered who she was, it was clear he felt betrayed: he thought he had loved her (though what frame of reference did he have for love, having never felt it and rarely received it?) and had hoped she wasn't lying. But of course she was, that's all she was, lies, lies, lies. 

She left Stark Tower feeling a lot like Tony: a liar, unloved and unloving. She didn't want to be alone, and longed to go back to Clint. 

_But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,_

She fell in love with him on a rooftop. 

It was the top of a hotel in Budapest, a dark starry night, and they were alone. Clint was pointing a bow at her, she had her gun out and ready to shoot, and he was begging her to come back to America with him. 

It was the first time she realized there could be more to life than taking orders from a random Red Room leader. So naturally, she fell in love with him for showing her that, though she acted indifferent for months. 

She shot him once, in the shoulder where it wouldn't cause too much damage, though he wouldn't be able to shoot a bow for a while. Then she let him bring her back. 

Slowly she fell in love with him for other things, the way he looked when practicing his archery, the way his eyes shined under fluorescent lights, his rough hands and the muscles in his arms and his love of practical jokes and the smirk when he got away with them. She discovered new things about him and loved him more for every one. 

A year after they met she kissed him. 

Two years later she trusted him with her life, over and over. 

Two years after that they became a team, one hardly ever on a mission without the other. 

Fifteen years later, they were married in a small church in Budapest. 

_And loved the sorrows of your changing face._

Sometimes Natasha loses who she is, on long missions that seem unending and unrelenting, the rare times she's sent somewhere without Clint, and she has to keep a cover for so long that she starts to believe it. She finds herself whispering her name into her pillow, and more importantly, Clint's name. It brings her back to herself for a while, just long enough for her to make it home. And when she gets back, Clint will take her into his arms and whisper Tasha into her hair, and kiss her with all the saved up love from her months away. When they're on missions together, Clint loves every one of her aliases, and no matter how many bruises and scars she has he loves those too. And so it will be until they fade to dust, or more likely, die from a bullet to the heart or some supervillain's schemes. And they're happy.


End file.
